More than the Eye can See
by Otaku-for-life
Summary: Sherlock and John were meant for each other. They're more than flatmates, more than friends. Everyone sees it, and sooner or later the two will see it. Short stories/drabbles of Johnlock. I'm sure many things will happen. When they're together and when they're trying to be together.
1. John saw him

**I do not own BBC's Sherlock, nor anything related to Sherlock in any way. Post _Reichenbach Fall. Enjoy! _  
**

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**_John saw him_**

John saw him. He was in the shopping center picking up groceries when he caught sight of the all too familiar man. At first he couldn't believe it. He shook his head, closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose, hoping to concentrate. When he opened his eyes he was still there. He knew it was him. He remembered the coat whipping behind him, the way the collar stood up in a pretentious manner, the way the man stood when deducing everything around him. John saw him, and he ran after him. He didn't know what the curly haired man was doing, but once he started running John ran after. He guessed that he'd always be chasing after Sherlock.

So he ran. He almost got hit by a car twice, ran into four men and three women, and ran down an alleyway that Sherlock had ran down himself. He wanted to call out to him, but he was too far, and when Sherlock was on the job he didn't quit that easily.

He kept running, keeping his eyes on the tall, slender man that was only a block ahead of him. He wished he was faster. He wished he could just find a way to catch Sherlock. He knew wishing had done him no good though.

For a split second John had lost Sherlock in a fit of frustration, then saw the man turning onto a street he knew too well. John hoped this was all a figment of his imagination as he turned down the same street, and ran into the empty apartment.

"John! Who is upstairs making all that ruckus?" John ran past an exasperated Mrs. Hudson, taking the steps two at a time, and arriving in the once shared flat, out of breath and staring at the most beautiful man he'd ever have the chance to lay his eyes on.

"John."

"Sherlock." John released his final breath before bending over, clutching his knees and breathing more heavily than he ever had. He had just ran after a sociopath for more than six minutes, so Sherlock allowed him time to recover.

"How-

"-am I here? I faked it."

"But-

"You saw me jump, yes. But you did not see me land."

"I saw you," John huffed out after finally catching his breath. "I went to your funeral. I mourned for you. I sat here for an entire year, hoping you'd come back. And now you're standing here, explaining but I'm not understanding. How are you here?"

Sherlock explained everything. Who helped him, how he did it, where he had stayed, and what he had been doing. John listened with tentative ears, not quite sure if he wanted to hear his explanation. He was afraid his nightmares would come back if he had listened to the events that unfolded a year ago at St. Bart's Hospital.

"John." John looked up at Sherlock who had stopped pacing. He had insisted on standing rather then sitting.

"Yes, Sherlock?" Sherlock knelt down in front of his friend - his only friend - and touched his shaking hands. John hadn't noticed till now but he was convulsing with sobs. Sherlock pulled his flat mate into a tight hug. John returned the gesture, missing Sherlock more than he could ever know. He didn't know what had come over him, and all he knew is that he needed to know this was real. He needed to know that Sherlock was here, and was here to stay. He'd just wished it wasn't like this, where he was acting a bit less manly than he'd hoped.

The duo had spent far too much time apart, Sherlock knew, because John was still hugging him a few minutes after he stopped crying. Their position had shifted, Sherlock leaning up against the couch holding John as he straddled the taller man and kept his head buried in the crook of his neck. Sherlock could not remember a time when he was this intimate with anyone, and he could not figure out why John and him were doing this now. Of course he had harbored feelings for the shorter man for a while now, so he didn't mind as much. John, however, always insisted he wasn't gay, and he hadn't ever shown much romantic interest in Sherlock, so why was he doing this now?

"John?"

"Yes, Sherlock?"

"Are you alright?"

"No, Sherlock."

"Why?" Sherlock asked, wanting an answer from his friend. He always needed to know the logical explanation of everything, including the feelings of his flat mate.

"You know why."

"I wouldn't be asking if I knew why, John."

"Because you're stupid."

"That's not a very reasonable explanation of the situation at hand John and-

To shut the detective up immediately, John pressed his lips to Sherlock's in a hesitant yet proud kiss. Sherlock had never experienced anything so special and magnificent since the first time he solved a case, and he thought this was way better. When John pulled away a frown appeared on Sherlock's face as John stared at him.

"That was marvelous," Sherlock mentioned, causing John to grin in happiness and to kiss Sherlock on the lips once again, making shivers run down Sherlock's spine. He had dreamed of this, but never dreamed of actually doing it.

John saw Sherlock. He chased after the man who had fallen. He found him again, and he intended to never let him go again, because a year had been enough.

"Sherlock?"

"Yes, John?"

"Tea?"

"Of course."

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_This is my first Johnlock fanfiction. Yes it's short, but aren't most of them? I just could not get the idea out of my freaking head. Gosh, I haven't written anything in a while... Well, if you're interested in anything else I write check my Wattpad! It's on my profile, along with some other dazzling fanfictions. :D More Johnlock to come! :D  
_


	2. An Experiment

**I do not own BBC's Sherlock, nor anything related to it in any way.**

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**_An Experiment_**

"It's a sort of experiment, if you will."

An experiment. He wanted to try an experiment on John again. The last time this happened he was in bed for a week with the flu. He wondered what his flat mate could possibly be wanting now, especially since John was so bitter about these experiments.

"What is it?" John asked after hesitantly agreeing.

"I want you you to set me up on a date." John's jaw dropped, and he began laughing uncontrollably, clutching his stomach as he did. Sherlock stood in patience, looking blankly at the man in front of him. When John calmed down, he looked at Sherlock and saw he was being serious.

"You're not kidding... Sherlock Holmes asking for a date! Is the world ending?" John yelled up to the ceiling, wondering where this sudden thought had come from.

"It's an experiment, John."

"About what? Learning how sentiment works? Learning how a girl's brain is wired?"

"It's none of your concern at the present moment. Will you get me a date?" John nodded slowly, a tad bit hurt that he had to set up the man he loved with some woman who would surely bore the man into stabbing himself with his fork or something. He would much rather be the one going on the date with Sherlock than some random woman. He set him up anyways, allowing the detective to test his experiment.

_Tan on her ring finger: Married. Both hair and clothes disheveled, came in a rush. Checking her phone constantly means she's awaiting something, most likely a call from her husband. No. Not her phone. Waiting for a call her husband is expecting. Mistress? Ah. Cheating on her husband with another married man. Hands coiled in the same position. She's been around._

Sherlock was having fun analyzing the woman in front of him. He had just arrived at the establishment, seeing her at a table trying to put on some makeup. John had underdone himself though. He thought he might have at least gotten him a _pretty_ girl. When he sat down she introduced herself as Martha, a common name for a common person. Sherlock was already bored with his experiment, and it had only been 4 minutes.

"Hello. I'm Jill. I'll be your waiter today. What can I start you out with?" Sherlock asked for tea per usual, as Martha ordered a glass of wine. When the waiter went away, Sherlock did his best to listen to Martha, but he was getting complacent and decided to focus on other things rather than her complaints considering he already knew the gist of her life.

"So-" Sherlock blocked anything she was saying now, because John had just walked in, a frantic look on his face, then calmed down when he spotted Sherlock in the middle of the room. The experiment was going as planned, and he hadn't even stabbed himself yet.

_Only 18 minutes. I'm surprised, John_, Sherlock thought as John walked over to him quickly.

"Sherlock. God, I can't do this. You can't do this. I'm sorry for setting you up on this date. It was a mistake."

"Why, John?" Sherlock smirked, earning a blush from the shorter man. He looked sternly at Sherlock, took one look at Martha, then back at Sherlock, seeing he had successfully given him a bust of a date.

"Because we should go back to the flat so we can carry out that experiment."

"Experime- Oh. Yes. Completely forgot about that wonderful experiment. Work to do Martha." Sherlock stood up, grabbed John's hand in his, and walked to and out the door, John happily going along. Once they were out in the cool night air, they bolted off to Baker street, laughing as they went along. When they stepped into the safe confines of their shared flat, Sherlock took John's face in his hands and kissed him passionately, loving that John was responding back nicely.

"How'd the experiment go?" John asked, pulling away from Sherlock and walking over to the couch.

"Swimmingly. Eighteen minutes total. I was betting on thirty four, though." Sherlock walked over to the couch also, sitting closely to his one and only flat mate.

"What was the experiment, exactly?"

"Seeing how long it'd take for you to come and get me from that atrocious date."

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_I'm sorry. I just... It's been in my head. I like it. Might be a little of out of character, not sure. I like it though. If you want more, review and it might happen. :D_


	3. Get Back in Bed

**I do not own ****_Sherlock_**** nor anything related to it. Enjoy!**

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**_Get Back in Bed_**

"Sherlock Holmes! You get back into that bed right this instant!"

"There are cases to solve John! I can't just lie around all day doing _nothing_!" Sherlock yelled back at his flatmate who was blocking the exit to his bedroom door. John had a stern look on his face and was not ready to budge until he got the detective back into his bed.

Recently, Sherlock had been testing an experiment with ill people around London, one John would not like to remember, and had caught the virus circulating around. John had been taking care of him for a week now, and since he refused to stay in bed for more than ten minutes he wasn't getting any better. John was more stressed than he needed to be, and Sherlock was not letting up one bit. He wondered why he had shared a flat for so long with someone as childish as Sherlock.

"You can solve cases after you're well again Sherlock."

"But-

"No buts. Get back to bed." Sherlock glared at John, not budging just as much as he. They stared, then Sherlock remembered an idea, one that had been swirling in his mind for a while. He often had a lot of time to think while staying in bed.

"I'll get back in bed if you get in with me."

"No," John said flatly. It's not that he didn't want to, because _did he want to_. He was deprived of his Sherlock in three different senses, sex, kissing, and cuddling. But due to the detective's health, John barely wanted to be in the same room, avoiding any physical contact that would cause him to catch what Sherlock had. He didn't think Sherlock could take care of him, or might get bored of him from not entertaining the one and only consulting detective.

"Then I guess I just won't get back in bed."

"Sherlock." John have him his meanest look, but Sherlock just laughed at the expression, finding his flatmate too adorable.

"Get back in bed Sherlock!" John yelled, his tone filled with demand and anger. Sherlock looked at him incredulously, wondering why John had resorted to such a voice. Sherlock realized he was the one causing John's anger, and broke his posture, walking back to his bed.

"I'll bring you some food so you can take your medicine." John exited the room, leaving Sherlock to sulk. He laid down in his bed, frustrated that John wouldn't allow him even the cases that didn't require leaving the house.

"Sherlock." John entered the room with no soup, only medicine and a cup of water. He walked over to the detective and sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to sit on his legs.

"Where's the soup?"

"I do not have the faintest idea what you are talking about," Sherlock mumbled in the sheets.

"I know you took the soup out of the cupboard. It was there just yesterday. Four cans." John placed the pills and the water on the nightstand. Sherlock sat up in the bed, looking directly into his blogger's eyes.

"I don't recall. It's all a bit of a blur, really."

"Sherlock. You have to get better. Take your medicine. I have to go buy groceries."

"John." Sherlock grabbed the doctor's wrist as he stood up, giving him his most stubborn look.

"Just stay here. Lay with me. I'll get better." John sighed, and sat back down.

Sherlock wrapped his lanky arms around the shorter man's waist, beginning to plant kisses on his neck. John missed this. John needed this. So he complied with everything the detective asked of him. He didn't deny Sherlock anymore.

"John."

"I love you too."

The next day Sherlock was bright and healthy. He had never felt any better in his life. John was happy for his lover, but felt worn out. He realized that he wasn't feeling as well as yesterday. He looked at Sherlock who had just sat down with his laptop, wondering if Sherlock had given him. He sighed, then asked the question.

"Sherlock. Did you give me your cold?"

"Impossible. I only had it for two days," Sherlock admitted, typing something out on his computer.

"Are you saying that I've been taking care of you for no reason?" John yelled, coughing in the process.

"Perhaps. I thought it was rather nice for you to worry about me. You've been stressing out far too much. That's why you've caught a cold."

"Sherlock Holmes! You are never getting a kiss from me again!"

"I guess I'll just have to give you one instead," Sherlock said, smirking at his blogger. He stood up, walked over to him, and planted a kiss right on his lips. John pulled away angry, and stalked to his bedroom. Sherlock laughed heartily at his comment as John went to his room.

"I hate you!"

"Whatever you say John!"

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**I love these. Am I in character? Tell me if I'm not. Also, if you would like to request something, you may. I might just put Sherlock and John in some compromising positions. ;) Anyways. Tell me what you think and see you in the next one!**


	4. John, it's Cold Outside

**I do not own Sherlock or anything related to it. Enjoy!**

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**John, it's Cold Outside**

John. -SH

John, please open the door. -SH

John. It's snowing. Please let me in. -SH

John, it's cold outside. -SH

Maybe you should ask your new favorite person to let you in. -JW

What? -SH

Don't play dumb with me. I read all about it on your laptop. -JW

Oh. -SH

You're mad at me because you read something about someone that you know nothing about? -SH

John. You're an idiot. Let me in. -SH

John. Let me explain. -SH

Go explain it to your new favorite person. - JW

How far did you read exactly? Because as I recall at the bottom of that document there is a particular name which in a fit of rage you decided to stop reading the document therefore lending you an inability to understand the situation and who it is about. John. Go read the end of the document. -JW

Ten minutes later the door was opened and John was ignoring Sherlock with tinted cheeks. They walked to the kitchen together, Sherlock wanting warm tea after standing in the cold for almost thirty minutes. John wondered why he hadn't just let himself in, then again he thought better than to wonder about Sherlock.

"Did you read it?" Sherlock asked, sipping his tea. John said nothing. He didn't look at Sherlock. He didn't acknowledge his question. He just stared off into space, thinking of a way that he could talk to Sherlock without feeling totally incompetent and embarrassed.

"Of course you did. I don't understand your embarrassment. I thought my affection towards you was no secret." John walked out of the room, and walked to his bedroom. He picked his phone up from off his bed, and began to text Sherlock back. Sherlock heard the small ping from his phone and picked it out of his pocket, smiling at the text.

I didn't know it was that deep.

-JW

It's always been that deep. -SH

Sherlock... -JW

You weren't supposed to read it John. -SH

I'm glad I did. -JW

Sherlock smiled lovingly at the text and placed his phone on the counter along with his now empty cup. He rushed to John's room, stopping in the doorway when he saw his doctor's slightly red face.

"John."

John looked towards the ground as Sherlock came closer to him. He sat on the bed, and looked down at the ground with John. The silence was unsettling. He looked at John's hand, and grabbed it, loving how it felt in his. John's head shot up at this move, and he stared into Sherlock's blue eyes. They were filled with an emotion John had never seen before, and he couldn't bare to look away incase he'd never see it again.

"John?"

"Yes, Sherlock?"

"Will you close your eyes for me?" John complied with his flatmate's request, and soon he found soft lips on his, and a deft hand on his face. He didn't move much, because the kiss was over quicker than he would have liked.

"Was... Was that okay?" Sherlock asked. John's eyes were still closed.

"Yeah. That was fine. Great." John opened his eyes, took a quick glance at Sherlock, then pressed their lips together for another kiss. John had felt bad for leaving Sherlock in the cold. He promised himself that he would always keep Sherlock warm.

"Sherlock? Will you stay here for the night?" John asked when they pulled away for the second time. A light smiled graced Sherlock's lips, and he kissed the doctor's cheek.

"Anything for you, John."

That night, the men lie in the bed, staring at each other, too happy to fall asleep. Sherlock's arm was over John's waist, and John's fingers played in Sherlock's curls. Kisses would be passed between the two every few minutes, but no words were exchanged. John had never felt more comfortable in his life. No woman had made him feel like Sherlock made him feel. Sherlock felt just as comfortable. Soon both the boys drifted off to sleep, staying in each other's arms.

The next morning Sherlock woke up to an empty bed, his bed. It wasn't John's. John had never been there. It was a dream. Yet it had felt real. More real then he could ever imagine. Sherlock stood up, looked around his room, then began to change. He had to head to the hospital to check on a body that had recently come in. Molly had texted him about it, and he was extrememly excited to experiment on it.

Sherlock had headed to the hospital, on the way meeting an old collegue from University. He had told him how he was looking for a flat, and how he didn't know anyone who would want to share it with him. Then after lunch time he ended up bringing in a man, who let Sherlock borrow his phone. He was completely astonished to find it was the John from his dreams. He fought the urge to tell him about this, because he often scared people off, and John was a potential flatmate.

No. John was going to be his flatmate. He was going to make sure of that. His dreams weren't going to go to waste.

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**This turned out a bit differently than I had imagined, but I like it. So I hope you do. I am doing requests, so if you would like me to write something, just ask in a PM or a review. Or, if you would like me to draw you something I can do that. I'm drawing some Sherlock fanart right now, so yeah. Next chapter will involve Mycroft, and a little something something. ;) See you next time! **


	5. What is that? (Part 1)

**I do not own ****_Sherlock_**** or anything associated with it. Enjoy!**

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**What is that? (Part 1)**

"What is all that crying John? Have you found out that Janice got kicked off? I told you she wasn't talented- Is that a baby?" Sherlock was left speechless. There was a crying baby in John's hands, in their shared flat. He was sixty four percent positive that they hadn't stopped at an orphanage this morning, and he was 100% sure John was not female. He tested that.

"Yes. It's a baby." John answered. He was now changing the baby's diaper, which was smelling up the apartment worse than the stink bomb experiment last month.

"Why is there a baby in my flat, John?"

"Our flat. And because Mrs. Hudson said it was a friend's daughter's kid, and she needed to go out for a bit so she asked me to take care of it." Sherlock stayed quiet after the explanation, not liking how the child was taking his doctor's attention. This time of the day was when Sherlock and John would cuddle up on the couch together, simply loving each other's company. Sherlock needed this today, because after a boring day at Scotland Yard, he needed his blogger to listen to his woes with undivided attention. But not today. Instead, there was a baby who had taken his place. And he was not enjoying it one bit.

"How long is she supposed to be gone?" Sherlock asked, heading over to the couch to sit down. He stripped himself of his coat and scarf, slinging it over the back of the couch. John now held the baby in his arms, ready to go put it down for a nap.

"She should be back around six." Sherlock groaned. It was only two. He couldn't believe he had to wait four hours till he got his John back.

John walked over to a crib that had been placed in the room, easily removable if need be. Sherlock watched as John handled the child with great care, cooing him to go to sleep and placing him in the crib. After making sure he was asleep, John walked quietly over to Sherlock and sat down next to him.

"You look terrible," Sherlock mentioned. John looked at Sherlock.

"Speak for yourself," John commented back. The two began to laugh, both of them needing the relief from the day. When they stopped, they looked to the baby to see if they had awoken it, and began laughing again for no absolute reason. Soon after, the two began kissing and fumbling with clothes on the couch, until John remembered there was a baby in the room.

"We should take this to the bedroom," John suggested, pushing Sherlock away from him.

"No time for that," Sherlock kissed the shorter man again, working

his hands under his least favorite jumper that he always tore off of John. He preferred John naked rather than that hideous thing.

"Sherlock we should really go to the bedroom." Mycroft entered the room as John said this, as Sherlock was ready to take off his pants, and Mycroft started spluttering words, embarrassed that he walked in on the two. He was even more horrified that they were doing it in front of the baby, and in the living room.

"Oh that was not for my eyes."

"Mycroft! Get out!" Sherlock yelled, frustrated that he couldn't have any relief from this terrible day. The baby awoke then, beginning to wail, the noise scratching at Sherlock's brain. He got off of John and started to put his shirt back on, along with his coat and scarf.

"Where are you going?" John asked, rushing over to the baby.

"Out. I can't stand that noise." Sherlock walked to the door, fixing his scarf so it was set snug around his neck.

"Sherlock! I could use some help!"

"I'm not the one who agreed to take care of that creature." Sherlock then promptly exited the flat, leaving John with a screeching baby.

Five hours had passed when Sherlock came back, the only person in the flat being John. He was asleep on the couch, absolutely exhausted from the baby. He had never taken care of such an unruly child, but he was sure it was so unruly because it had been away from it's mother for too long. Sherlock walked over to John, and kneeled down, shaking his doctor awake.

"Oh... Sherlock. What time is it?" John asked, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

"7:12. I was wondering if you wanted to sleep in the bed with me."

"Yeah..." John smiled and grabbed Sherlocks's outstretched hand, and he dragged the tired man to the bedroom, where they lie down cuddled up with each other.

"I'm sorry Sherlock."

"What for?" Sherlock asked, taking in the smell of his lover.

"For giving all of my attention to the baby. I know you hate it when you're not the center of attention, and I know you hate the sound of crying." John mumbled into Sherlock's chest. He strained his ear to hear the doctor's voice, and managed to pick up most of what he was saying. Sherlock stayed silent, but listened for John's voice again.

"I want to have a family with you Sherlock. I hope one day you'll let the both of us love another."

"Soon, John." Sherlock kissed John's forehead and let sleep overtake the both of them.

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**I love taking a crack at John's obsession with crap television. Well, anyways. Part 1. Part 2 will be uploaded probably in a couple days, along with two other chapters. It's FINALLY spring break, but I have to finish all my homework before doing anything due to a thing happening next weekend. So yeah! Hope you liked it, review request, and I guess somebody asked to see Mycroft in some compromising positions, but that wasn't quite clear to me so that person would have to clear that up. See you next time!**


	6. What is that? (Part 2)

**I do not own _Sherlock_ in any way. Enjoy! **

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**What is that? (Part 2)**

Donald ran about the house, chasing after Hamish with a pillow in his hands. John was busy typing on his blog, and Sherlock was in the kitchen, where he had put up a fence to keep the boys out during his experiment. Neither of the two men paid attention to the two boys, until Hamish had started _screaming_.

"Hamish Holmes! Your father and I are both working and we gave you one rule!" John stood up from his laptop and went over to Hamish who was on the floor behind the couch being tickled by Donald.

Hamish kept yelling, annoying Sherlock and pulling his mind away from his experiment. Sherlock just couldn't take it anymore. He stood up, opened the gate and went over to the two boys, prying Donald off of his son before anything else could happen.

"We told the both of you to be quiet while we worked, not scream like monkeys in the local zoo. Donald is here on chance, Hamish. You two need to behave. If you would really like to show your feelings for each other, go to your own room." Sherlock placed Donald down and strode away, back to his experiment. John watched with appreciative eyes. Donald blushed, rushing to Hamish's room, embarrassed about the comment Sherlock made about his feelings for his best friend.

"Your father is right Hamish." Hamish was left to defend himself, and he swore to tickle Donald later.

"But papa, we were only just playing around."

"That is no excuse. The rule was no loud noises-

"But Donald-

"Don't argue with me young man!" John said sternly, making Hamish quiet. Hamish looked stubbornly at his dad.

"I don't yell at you when dad makes you scream at four in the morning!" Hamish yelled, running to his room and slamming the door shut. John stood in place awestruck, and then realizing what his son had been talking about, his face flushed. He could hear Sherlock chuckling in the other room. John walked to the kitchen, opening the gate and clearing his throat.

"You should be more quiet John," Sherlock said, continuing to look into the microscope, trying hard not to laugh.

"Very funny Sherlock. I have to go to the store and buy some groceries. Can you keep an eye on the kids? And try not to tape them up like last time."

"I make no promises, John. You know this." John sighed, and placed a quick kiss on Sherlock's head, grabbing his keys off the counter and leaving the kitchen, then subsequently the flat.

It was quiet for the first ten minutes, enough for Sherlock to get a little information for his experiment. But then he started to hear screaming again, and something crashing upstairs. He growled, and ignored it for the first minute, until more screams had been produced. He stood up, and rushed up the stairs to John's old bedroom, and opened the door, seeing the two boys on the floor, Donald on top of his son for the second time that day.

"What did you two break now?" Sherlock asked, prying the older boy off Hamish once again. He scanned the room for evidence, and found wrinkled and pulled up sheets on Hamish's bed, and a bare nightstand.

"Clean up the mess before John finds it. We wouldn't want Donald to be gone for another month, would we?" Sherlock demanded. Hamish quickly scrambled up, and went to get the broom from his closet, beginning to clean up the broken glass under his bed.

"Donald, you really should refrain from placing your affection on my son, considering he isn't interested in you," Sherlock said, placing Donald down and going to the door. Donald blushed fiercely in embarrassment, and looked down at the ground.

"Dad!" Hamish dropped the broom in anger, and gave his father the same stubborn look he gave John earlier.

"I'm only looking out for his well being, Hamish. He deserves to know you have a crush on that small girl down the street. Don't encourage his feelings."

"Get out dad!" Hamish then preceded to throw the broom at his father, hitting him straight in the head. He ran over to Sherlock, and pushed him out of his room, closing the door and locking it once again.

Sherlock was confused for about three seconds until he realized that his son was embarrassed and hurt by Sherlock's words. He rolled his eyes and walked downstairs, back to the kitchen and continuing on with his experiment.

_Sentiment is uncontrolled at his age, _Sherlock thought.

A few minutes into his experiment, he got a text, no doubt from John, and looked at it.

_Hamish called. What did you do now? -JW_

_Nothing much. Just told Donald that he's wasting his time on having feelings for Hamish. -SH_

_Sherlock! They are 9 year's old! You don't tell that kind of thing to a 9 year old! -JW_

Sherlock rolled his eyes again and set his phone down, continuing on with his experiment. He had been with John for eleven years now and he still didn't quite understand the sentiment that all humans had kept within them. He didn't understand why when he was helping they all got offended. He sighed, and picked up his phone, before it had made another beep signaling another text from John.

_Apologize. Please._ _-JW_

Sherlock didn't do such a thing.

When John had arrived home after shopping for groceries, he saw the two boys on the couch, watching T.V, farther apart than usual, and Sherlock was no where to be found. John assumed he was in their room, sulking like he usually did when his two boys got in a fight.

"Hamish, where is Sherlock?" John asked. Hamish pointed to where their bedroom lie, and John sighed. He walked to their room, pausing at their door, then opening it, seeing Sherlock on the bed, a nicotine patch on his arm.

"Sherlock-

"Come here John." John did so, sitting on the bed with his husband. Sherlock inclined his head toward him, and closed his eyes. He shifted his body so his head was now in John's lap, and John began playing with the strands of his hair.

"Papa, Donald's mom is here." Hamish walked into the room, and saw how intimate the two men were being. John was staring at Sherlock with loving eyes, and Sherlock was trying to fall asleep. Hamish coughed, earning John's attention.

"Donald's mom is here. I'll just tell her you guys are busy." John smiled at his son as he left the room, and put his attention back onto Sherlock.

"Are you going to apologize to him?" John asked.

"Later. I'm busy right now."

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_Sometimes, I do adore these two. I love this story, I really do. I don't even know why. Well, anyways. Review, request, anything you want I'll write it. :D See you next time! _


	7. Ten people

**I do not own_ Sherlock_ or anything related to it. Enjoy! **

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**Ten people**

Ten people had told Sherlock about his feelings for John. Okay. Nine. Anderson's opinion didn't matter. They had all mentioned how Sherlock gave the doctor a specific look, one that contained feelings he wasn't quite comfortable with. He never knew what they were talking about, until one day he stared at his reflection in the mirror while thinking about John. He noticed his eyes lit up when he thought about John cooking breakfast in the kitchen for him, and no one else. He wondered how he ended up with such a caring person.

Another time he noticed the expression was when John was tending a wound on his arm, bandaging up a large gash that was stitched up moments before. He stared at John, then looked at himself in the mirror, seeing that look on his face again. His eyes were brighter. There was a small smile gracing his lips, and his whole expression was soft. He wondered when he, the great Sherlock Holmes, had gotten soft. When had he distracted himself with feelings? He made a mental note to lock these feelings up or to delete them. It kept him from focusing on his work.

He tried hard to ignore the nagging feelings at the back of his mind. No matter what he did, he couldn't forget them. He couldn't just delete them out of his mind, so he pushed them to the depths where they could be blocked by more important thoughts. But they were persistent. His feelings kept popping up at random moments while working, and he couldn't finish the case until three hours later. One time he even asked John to leave the flat because he had been so distracted. John had asked what was wrong, but Sherlock ignored him and began playing his violin, needed something to help him think. John had left, and Sherlock placed his violin down. It wasn't helping. He paced about the room, he shot more bullets into the wall, he watched crap television, he tried an experiment in the kitchen, he rearranged his entire bedroom, he even went as far as watching porn on John's laptop.

_Nothing helped. _

He went to his mind palace for a while, trying to delete the feelings once again, or at least locking them up for the time being. Again, it didn't work. He decided he might as well just mention it to John, but then he thought against it. John had a girlfriend. What was her name? Gloria? Olivia? Either way, John was straight. He'd probably be freaked out by the sudden confession.

The next day at Scotland Yard, Lestrade had strolled up to him and poked a finger at John who was speaking with one of the officers who was helping with their recent case. Sherlock was looking at John, making sure the gay officer hadn't tried anything with _his_ John.

"You tell John yet?"

"Inspector, it'd be highly appreciated if you didn't speak nonsense while we're working," Sherlock replied, keeping his eyes fixed on John.

"Sherlock, you gotta tell him."

"I have nothing to tell him. If anything, I think you should be working out the case instead of telling me that I should be expressing feelings to my colleague."

"Sherlock. Really. Just talk to him about it."

"It was the caterer. She poisoned the owner because he insulted her social class. And I really thought you'd figure it out yourself." Sherlock looked at John and called to him. "John! We're leaving!" He looked at Lestrade and grimaced. "Text me again when you have something a tad more interesting." And with that, Sherlock turned on his heel and left the doors, John rushing after him, calling out his name.

They took a taxi home, John looking confusedly at Sherlock. Sherlock noticed this right away, but continued to stare out the window.

"Nothing is wrong John," Sherlock said. John was still staring, not believing his best friend.

"You're lying. I'm not stupid Sherlock. You're been like this the last couple of weeks. What's wrong?" John asked, placing his hand on Sherlock's shoulder. Sherlock shrugged away and continued to stare out the window, not wanting to reveal any of his pent up feelings. He'd just make a mess and ruin their relationship. Sherlock liked their relationship the way it was, and he didn't need any awkward feelings getting in the way of that.

"Sherlock. Talk to me. I don't know what's wrong unless you talk to me." Sherlock ignored his flatmate for the rest of the car ride home. He ignored John when he entered 221b and he ignored him as he slipped off his coat and scarf and plopped down onto the couch.

"Sherlock, you are acting like a teenage girl- Oh." John started, then realized what Sherlock was doing. He was acting like a teenage girl. He was being affected by feelings, yet Sherlock was so immature in that area he didn't know what to do about them.

"Sherlock. Do you have feelings for someone?" John asked, needed correct clarification. Sherlock looked at the doctor, and scowled. He stood up, walked over to John and scoffed.

"Feelings? For who? Feelings are for stupid people. Feelings distract a person. Feelings are unnecessary John."

"Yet you like someone." John grinned, loving the way he was riling up Sherlock. Sherlock squirmed slightly, noticing how close he and John were. He was kissing distance from the man, and could easily just plant a kiss right on his lips. Sherlock had studied these lips before, and just about every other feature on John's face. But lips were the second most important, so he studied those more closely than the other parts.

John noticed that Sherlock was staring at his lips, and his breath hitched. Sherlock could do anything at this point, and John wasn't sure if he would push Sherlock away or not.

"Sherlock."

"Don't talk. I'm busy." John continued to stare at Sherlock. He was fairly certain that Sherlock was going to kiss him, and he was fairly certain he didn't care if he did. After a minute's thought John realized that he wasn't too against kissing Sherlock.

"What is so special about feelings John? What makes another person attracted to another?"

"You know why Sherlock." John said, leaning closer involuntarily. Sherlock took note of how John leaned in, and how comfortable he was with it. If he had tried this when they first met, Sherlock probably would have been socked across the face.

"John. I'm going to kiss you."

"I figured as much." John let him. Sherlock was the one who came to John, and they'd both be lying if either said they didn't absolutely love it. It lasted exactly 7.82 seconds, Sherlock counted. It was just a small kiss, but god, if John wasn't going to get more.

"John. Before we kiss anymore, you might want to break up with your awestruck girlfriend." John turned to the door where his recent girlfriend was. He wondered why she was here, but then remembered John and her were supposed to have a date.

"I see you've lied once again John. What a freak." The now ex girlfriend exited the flat, down the stairs, disgusted that she had been dating yet another gay man.

"Are you going to go after her?" Sherlock asked.

"What for? I have you right here."

"I thought you were the knight in shining armor. You never leave a girl like that John."

"I'll make an exception." And with that, John leaned in and kissed Sherlock's lips once again, loving the feeling that no girl had ever given him, nor could ever give him.

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_So, I was planning on uploading four more stories, but I got busy with schoolwork, and writing other short stories, and having a social life. I just couldn't get around to typing the other two, but they will be uploaded late tomorrow. Swear. So. I hope you enjoyed. This was weird to write. But review, request, because I write anything. And see you next time! _


	8. The Dream

**I do not own _Sherlock_ or anything related to it. Enjoy!**

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_**The Dream**_

Climbing into a cab was normal after an intense case. Thinking over what could have happened if Scotland Yard hadn't arrived as usual was normal. John sleeping was normal. But John sleeping on Sherlock's shoulder was not normal. John never shifted out of his own space, but suddenly, that night he had. Sherlock was absolutely baffled. He couldn't think properly with John touching him. Of course John touched him, but he was usually conscious. Now, he was totally knocked out and absolutely unaware that he was touching Sherlock.

Sherlock stared at him. His breathing was light and slow. His hands were clasped in his lap. His knee was touching Sherlock's.

'Oh...' Sherlock thought. He didn't know what to do in this kind of situation. He looked down at John's hands again. He wondered how they would feel in his, without gloves. Skin to skin, fingers linked together, squeezing in reassurance or happiness.

Sherlock brought his own hand up and placed it on John's. He rubbed the top of his left hand, and then entangled there's together. It felt right, Sherlock thought.

He looked to the cabbie to see if he was watching them, but he looked just as tired as Sherlock and John, and needed to focus on the road, rather than the two men in the back. Sherlock smiled, glad that he had a little bit of privacy.

"Mm... Sherlock..." John shifted in his seat, and was now snuggled into Sherlock's side, his hand still in Sherlock's. Sherlock looked at his friend, completely and utterly confused. This had never happened before on a car ride home, so he really had no idea how to react. He looked at the cabbie once again, who was smiling in the mirror.

Sherlock then realized that John was thinking about him. He wouldn't have mentioned his name unless he was dreaming about the curly haired man. Sherlock looked down at John, and wondered when John had started to look so beautiful. He never looked at any other human being the way he looked at John.

"Sherlock... Shut up..." John mumbled. Sherlock laughed, looking confusedly at his flat mate.

"We're here, sir." The cabbie pulled over the side on Baker Street, and parked the car in front of 221b.

"John. We're here." Sherlock pried himself out of John's grasp and began shaking the ex-army doctor out of his sleep.

"Sherlock... go away..." John grunted, cuddling up into Sherlock's side again. Sherlock looked at the cabbie, seeing how she was just smiling to herself while on her phone.

"Alright, John. You can be difficult. Can you take us around the city again please?" Sherlock asked, handing the women his card.

"Anything for the couple." And so the cabbie took them around the city again, Sherlock holding John's hand and John cuddled into Sherlock's body. Sherlock had his arm slumped over John's shoulders, and loved the warmth radiating from his body. He couldn't remember a time when he had ever felt so _warm._

"Stay... Please... Sherlock." Sherlock looked at John, surprised he was still dreaming about the detective. He smiled, leaned his head on the doctor's, and soon fell asleep with John.

_John stared at his boyfriend from across the room and he smiled lovingly. Sherlock was always so beautiful to John when he was deducing their latest clients._

_"John, your opinion please?" John blinked twice, then laughed at Sherlock's comment. Why would he ever need John's opinion?_

_"John. John."_

_"Oh. You're serious. You don't usually ask for my opinions in this kind of case." John stood up and walked over to Sherlock. Je noticed the man covering up his arm, blood seeping through his clothes._

_"He has a wound. I needed you to define it." John smiled again, and looked at the damage. He thought about the last time he took care of a wound. It was the first time Sherlock had kissed him. It was the first time he really thought about his extent of love for Sherlock. Ever since they became a couple, they hadn't had such an intimate moment as the bathroom incident. John often wanted to do something, go out, sleep in the same bed, cuddle on the couch like any other couple, but when ever he asked Sherlock he completely ignored him._

_"You're free to go." Sherlock said to the client when he was all patched up._

_"What about my case?" he asked exasperatingly. Sherlock scoffed at the question._

_"Obviously it was your sister." And with that, Sherlock ordered the man out of their flat, and asked John to make some tea. John went to the kitchen, and began making tea for his insufferable flatmate. Soon, Sherlock joined him in the kitchen, where his arms wrapped around the doctor's waist and his chin rested on his left shoulder._

_"Hello to you too, Sherlock."_

_"I apologize John." Sherlock said, kissing John's neck, and sucking on his soft spot._

_"For what?"_

_"For ignoring you these last few days."_

_"No, it's fine. Work comes first." John watched as the kettle boiled, then turned around in Sherlock's arms to wrap his own around the detective's._

_"But some attention is appreciated." Sherlock gave him a small smile. John smiled back._

_"That can be arranged." As both the men leaned into each other, everything started to fade from John's grasp, seemingly disappearing before him and leaving him to be awaken._

John rubbed his eyes, surveying his surroundings. He was still in the cab they had taken home, but he noticed Sherlock was much closer than he was before. His hand was entangled with John's, Sherlock's arm was draped over his shoulders, and his head was resting on his head. John had never felt more comfortable.

"Sherlock..." John whispered, trying to awaken his flatmate. He moved away from him a bit, but still did not release his hand.

"John..." Sherlock mumbled, opening his eyes a tad bit.

"What are we doing?"

"Isn't it quite obvious?" Sherlock asked, trying to pull John back to him.

"Sherlock I-

John was cut off when lips had pressed against his on a sweet, short kiss. Sherlock pulled away, pulling John back into him and cuddling up again. John relaxed in his best friend's arms. He had dreamed about this moment for a long time, even tonight, and it was here, and he couldn't be happier.

"This is what we're doing, John."

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**Well, that turned out differently than expected, but I like it. Anyways. I hope you all enjoyed. I really need requests people! I'm running out ofideas. And by that I mean school is killing me. I don't know when I'll update again, but it will be soon. Sorry I didn't update much over my spring break. I ended up getting really busy. So, again, review, request, all that good stuff. It only takes a few minutes! See you soon buckaroos!**


	9. Sleep

**I do not own _Sherlock_ or anything related to it. Enjoy**!

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**_Sleep_**

Sherlock was tired, but he couldn't sleep. There were too many things about the recent case that had gone unresolved. John sent him to bed though after having only two hours of sleep in the past three days. But Sherlock couldn't sleep, especially when he didn't need it. There were other things to do. He stood up from his bed, and putting his robe on, walked out to the living room. He saw his violin perched by the window, and walked over to it, picking it up and beginning to play.

It didn't do anything to calm his mind though, for some odd reason. It was what usually made him think, but it wasn't working right now. He thought of the other activity he usually did, but he hadn't done that since his faked suicide. He tried to play his violin once more, but it didn't suffice. He sighed, knowing he had to take his second best option to cure his boredom and the many cogs running in his brain.

He walked up the steps, slowly, but surely to his best friend's room. Once there, he opened the door and walked in, walking over to his flat mate's bed. John was shifting uncomfortably in his bed, tangled up in sheets and mumbling random words. Sherlock sat on the edge of his bed, quickly putting a hand on John's head. John felt Sherlock rubbing soft circles into his scalp, and calmed down from his nightmare.

"Mmm..." John mumbled, and Sherlock watched. His mind was starting to piece things together that his violin music could never help. He wondered why this hadn't been his first choice earlier, then he realized how odd it was actually watching someone sleep. He had only done it one other time, and when he had, John ended up waking up and wondering what Sherlock was doing in his room. He didn't say anything and left the room, both the boys forgetting about the incident.

Sherlock was ready to leave twenty minutes later, having his head clear of the mess that clogged it up. He stood up, but not two seconds of moving did a hand grab his wrist.

"Stay... Please." John mumbled, his sleepy eyes staring at Sherlock. Sherlock sat back down on the bed slowly, and placed his hand on John's head again, while John let go of the small wrist.

The two sat like that, Sherlock staring at John and John mumbling incoherent sentences. John had often tried to fall asleep, but he kept himself awake, knowing Sherlock would leave once his eyes closed. John remembered the one other time Sherlock had done this.

Sherlock had come back after three years, and left John completely angry with him. John decided against talking with him, until Sherlock had apologized whole heatedly, three weeks after his return. That night Sherlock came into John's room, hearing John yelling in his sleep. He placed his hand on John's head, rubbing circles and calming John down. He stayed for an hour until John woke up, and asked him what he was doing. He could've sworn Sherlock said something as he left, but he was too tired to remember. Now Sherlock was doing the same thing, and he thought to himself how calming it was to have Sherlock by his side.

At one point, Sherlock stood up, uncomfortable in his position and stretched for a quick minute. John thought he was leaving and ended up begging him to stay, until Sherlock kissed his cheek and laid him back down. John held his hand the rest of the time, not wanting to lose Sherlock. Ever since he came back he had been keeping a close eye on Sherlock.

At five a.m Sherlock had crawled into John's bed at his request, and the two stared at each other. Sherlock wondered when John had become okay with this this, but he figured that John was too tired to worry about it. He didn't mind though. He felt safe in John's proximity, and John loved that Sherlock was this close, not at all out of sight.

"Sherlock, sleep. Please. You need it," John whispered, three minutes before he fell asleep.

"Anything for you, John." Sherlock whispered and soon fell asleep, his mind finally resting.

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**I know I said I'd update earlier, but I couldn't. I got extremely busy and lots of stuff happened over Spring Break. But now I'm back, and got some Sherlock fluff coming your way! So review, request, all that good stuff! Have a lovely day and don't forget to sneeze! See you in the next one! **


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